HopeFilled Holes
by Luna4713
Summary: Abby LeVert is a thirteen-year-old street urchin, living off of only what she needs by stealing it from the local Kroger grocery store. Fortunately, winks she is eventually caught by the police and immediately sent to Camp Green Lake where a few surprise
1. Chapter One

Chapter One  
  
Abby couldn't take it any longer. She had to get out. Another beating would be coming as soon as her father stepped through the door, and Abby knew that she wouldn't be able to handle it.   
  
It was just a matter of time before Social Services stepped into the picture, before Abby was sent to a foster home to live with complete strangers. She knew that once she got into the foster system, there was no getting out. There were just as many bad foster parents as there were good ones, and Abby didn't want to risk it.  
  
She had no place to go, really. She had no aunts or uncles. Her grandparents from both sides of her family were dead. So was her mother, the only person or creature that had ever truly cared for her. The only one Abby had truly cared for, as well.  
  
Abby didn't have a choice though. She had to get out.  
  
Under her bed in the attic, Abby found her trunk. She plopped it down on the bed, letting it fall open. After she had grabbed some clothes and threw them into the trunk, she closed it and ran for the door, but---  
  
Abby looked behind her, scanning her room one last time. Then, she saw it. The dark-blue violin case. Her mother had been teaching her to play since she was old enough to hold a full-sized one. Even though it was extra weight to lug around, Abby couldn't leave it behind. It had been so important to her . . . and her mother.  
  
She reached out for it and was about to slide her hand into the handle until she heard---  
  
"ABBY!"   
  
Her father's cold, drunken, bellowing voice rang through the house, sending shivers up Abby's spine.  
  
She grabbed the case, exited her room, and made her way down the stairs as quietly as possible.  
  
The seventh step creaks, she said to herself. Don't forget. The seventh step creaks. Here it comes. That's right. Just step . . . over it.  
  
She looked down, at the eighth step. She had made it. She tiptoed down the rest of them and edged across the living room, behind her father's recliner where he was sitting, snoring loudly. She stopped at the door to draw a silent breath. Then she heard the pelting of rain outside on the roof.  
  
Ah, great, she thought. Just what I need.  
  
She took her yellow raincoat from the coat rack, put it on, and reached for door handle. Once she had the door open, Abby picked up the trunk and case again, stepped outside, and shut the door behind her for the last time.  
  
Abby walked off the porch and ran down the driveway until she was nothing but a mere yellow blur, quickly fading away between the sheets of cold rain in the distance. Little did she know where she was going or what she would do once she got there; and little did she know that a year from now, her raincoat would be of no use whatsoever. 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
~a year later~  
  
It was morning. June 5. Abby had been living on the streets for almost twelve months now. She had also been stealing for eight months.   
  
The dumpsters had started to run out of food.  
  
Abby stretched and yawned. She was unbelievably tired. It had hailed the night before; and Abby had learned a couple of times before, the hard way, that under a bridge wasn't the best place to be during a hailstorm.  
  
But, no matter how tired she was, there was food that needed to be stolen and a stomach that needed to be fed. Early in the morning was the best time to get it, when stores weren't busy.  
  
Abby shivered as she stood up. The temperature was rapidly rising, as it was June, but Abby's brown blanket never helped much to keep her warm at night. She grabbed her now battered trunk and wedged it in between two rocks she had managed to move to store her belongings in when she left the bridge.  
  
Just another day, she thought as she grabbed her violin case and walked out from under the bridge. She climbed the steep hill leading up to the road, waited for the cars to slow down, and ran across the road, tangled hair waving in the breeze.  
  
Abby had forgotten her hairbrush when she ran away from home, but if there was ever a time in her life when she needed one, it was now. Of course, she could have stolen one, but she figured that she didn't really need one, and Abby only took what she needed for her survival. A hairbrush wasn't of any real use. Not on the streets, at least.   
  
She could finally see the big, bold Kroger sign. This was where Abby always stole her food from, unless it was a busy day. Then, she would walk into a nearby gas station to swipe some crackers until a few of the Kroger customers cleared out.  
  
The door automatically opened for her.   
  
Why does the brainless door have to help me? Abby asked herself. I'm stealing! Don't these people know what that means?   
  
Abby's conscience was always nagging at her.  
  
Aisle five, she whispered. Bread's on aisle five.  
  
It was there, as it usually was. Rolls, buns, loaves. Abby would always steal something different, depending on what she felt like eating, and lived off of it for a week. Or as long as it would last.  
  
She grabbed a pack of rolls this time and sneaked back to the restroom, as she always did. Abby walked in, chose a stall, locked the door, and set her case down. She unzipped her jacket (Abby always wore her baggiest clothes on stealing days) and stuffed the rolls inside. Making sure none of the plastic covering poked out, Abby zipped up her jacket and unlocked the stall door. She picked up the violin case and headed out of the restroom.  
  
Once she was out of the door, Abby stopped dead in her tracks and looked up.  
  
She was face to face with an officer.  
  
* * *  
  
"H-Hello, Officer . . . ?"  
  
He pointed to his tag and then said, in a gruff voice, "Stinson. Officer Stinson."  
  
"Well, good morning, Officer Stinson," Abby said with a smile. She felt a bit more confident now, and she offered her hand. When the officer didn't take it, she frowned. "I-Is there . . . something wrong?"  
  
He nodded towards Abby's violin.  
  
"What's in the case?"  
  
"Oh," Abby laughed. "This?" She held up the case. "This is my violin."  
  
Officer Stinson didn't look the least bit satisfied with her answer. "And this is my assistant." He motioned for another man in uniform to come closer. "Officer Hastings."  
  
"Good morning, Officer Hastings," Abby repeated, but this time, she didn't offer her hand.  
  
Officer Stinson muttered something to Officer Hastings, but Abby still heard. "Search her."  
  
As Officer Hastings nodded and approached Abby, she made a run for it. But before you could say "handcuffs", they were already on Abby's wrists, the cold metal biting into her bones as well as her skin. Officer Hastings' hands ran up and down her legs, then her arms, and then he unzipped her jacket. The rolls fell onto the tile floor.  
  
"Aha!" Officer Stinson said with a smile on his bearded face. "So this is what you were hiding?" He held up the bag of rolls as Officer Hastings continued the search on her case.  
  
Abby's eyes narrowed, but she nodded all the same.   
  
"And how long have you been stealing? From here? From anywhere?"  
  
"About eight months."  
  
"You do know that any kind of shoplifting is illegal, right?"  
  
"I'm not stupid," Abby said.  
  
"Oh, really?" He turned back around to Officer Hastings. "Got anything in the case?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"Well, if you don't end up in jail," he said to Abby, "you can have your violin back---"  
  
"Jail?" Officer Hastings interrupted. "She looks more like a Camp-Green- Laker to me."  
  
Officer Stinson looked Abby up and down, and then he chuckled to himself. "You're right."  
  
Abby looked at the two men with an odd _expression on her face which made the officers laugh even more. "I've never heard of Camp Green Lake," she said. But she was about to wish that it didn't even exist. 


	3. Chapter Three

I am angelgirl3137, and I'm posting these chapters for the real writer of the story. I am so sorry that I haven't posted this chapter sooner. I was on a long vacation, and I haven't been able to update. I am very sorry. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!  
  
CHAPTER THREE  
  
It was settled.   
  
Abby was now on her way to Camp Green Lake. A ridiculously long and hot bus ride to the middle of nowhere, with nothing and no one to accompany her on the long journey, except for an indifferent driver and guard and her violin.  
  
Abby almost didn't dare speak, but she wasn't one to be patient for too long. "Are we almost there?"  
  
Not that she was anxious to get there or anything, she just couldn't bear the suspense! She had been sentenced to go to a place that she knew absolutely nothing about, except for the name: Camp Green Lake. But names, as well as appearances, can be deceiving.  
  
"About another five minutes or so," the guard said.  
  
Abby was sweating so much, that she thought it would be nearly impossible to get unstuck from her seat. There had been nothing but holes on either side of the dirt road for miles now. And, as far as  
  
Abby could see, there was no lake around, and nothing was green.  
  
"Here we are." The guard walked back to Abby's seat to undo the handcuffs as the bus came to a halt.  
  
"Thank goodness," Abby said under her breath as she slowly stood up, letting her jeans peel off the seat.   
  
Eleven hours was way too long to be sitting down.  
  
She picked up her case, which had been resting on the seat opposite her, and walked off the bus to see a large group of boys and girls, all up into their teen years by the look of them, gathered around the bus. Abby lifted her hand to set her glasses back on her nose as she blinked several times. She wasn't used to crowds, and she had never been too fond of talking in front of class at school either.  
  
A mean and surly looking man walked, slowly, up to Abby.   
  
"This is our newest camper!" he yelled for everyone to hear. "Abby LeVert! She has been assigned to B-Tent!"  
  
He paused to let everyone get a good look at Abby before speaking again.  
  
"You can go now!" he said, and that was it.  
  
Everyone moaned and picked up their---  
  
Shovels? Abby thought. She tried to piece everything together. It wasn't working until she remembered the holes. Abby moaned too. She didn't have to be told to know what the general idea was: Holes. They would be digging holes every day.  
  
"Follow me," the man said.   
  
So Abby followed him and listened as he talked.  
  
"My name is Mr. Sir."  
  
Abby found his name slightly amusing, but no longer possessed the energy to laugh.  
  
"You are to call me by my name, nothing else---"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Sir," Abby said in a tired voice.  
  
Mr. Sir turned towards her. "You're a fast learner," he said. Then he turned back and kept walking.  
  
He led her into a small, air-conditioned office.  
  
Yes! Abby thought. That feels so good!  
  
A woman was already in there. She was tall with black hair and a long neck. She was wearing a bright pink tank-top and jeans. Even though she was lanky, and didn't look remotely . . . impressive, she gave off a certain intimidating air.  
  
"This," Mr. Sir said, indicating the woman, "is your counselor. She'll show you your tent."  
  
Mr. Sir then left the office.  
  
"Hello, Abby . . . Levert, is it?" The woman smiled. It wasn't exactly a friendly smile, but it wasn't menacing either.  
  
Abby nodded.  
  
"French, are you?"  
  
"Uh, I think my ancestors were."  
  
The woman nodded. "I thought so. My name is Carrie Hensley. But, to you, I'm Miss Hensley."  
  
Abby nodded to show that she understood.  
  
Miss Hensley nodded back. "Each day, you will dig one hole, five feet deep and five feet in diameter. Your shovel should be used as your measuring stick. If you find something, you are to report it to me, Mr. Sir, or any other counselor. You will then get the rest of the day off as well as some other rewards. You will be needing these."   
  
Miss Hensley pulled out something orange from a closet.   
  
"What are they?" Abby asked.  
  
"These," Miss Hensley said, handing them to Abby, "are your suits. One is for work, one is for your free time after you've dug your hole for the day. Laundry will, honestly, be washed not-so regularly; but it will be washed. And, I believe that is all.  
  
"I'd like to leave you knowing that I don't wish for you nor anyone else in this camp to start any trouble for any reason. It will do everyone more harm than good."  
  
Miss Hensley glanced down at her watch. "You are most certainly too late to start a hole today so you may go hang out in your tent or the Wreck Room, if you wish, until lights out which is around eleven to twelve o'clock. Pretty much anytime you feel like hitting the pillow. I'd advise you abide by the saying 'early to bed and early to rise' because you're going to need rest if you don't want to wake up tired."  
  
"When do we get up in the morning? Is there a schedule?"  
  
"You wake up at four thirty in the morning---"  
  
Abby didn't say anything, but her eyes were about the size of tennis balls when Miss Hensley announced this bit of unwelcome news.  
  
"---lunch is brought to you by either Mr. Sir or Mr. Pendanski along with fresh water every two or three hours. Dinner's whenever your hole is finished.  
  
"There are signs outside to help you find your way."  
  
Miss Hensley opened a door at the back of the office, leading outside. "Girls' side of the camp is out here, but you will be digging with your boy tent-mates as well as your girl tent-mates.   
  
"You can go now."  
  
Abby walked out of the office. She was headed towards B-Tent with her two orange suits and violin in hand, but---  
  
"One more thing, Abby!"  
  
She turned to see Miss Hensley's head poking out from behind the office door. "Tomorrow, try to get the smallest shovel!" She winked before disappearing behind the door.  
  
After making sure the coast was clear, Abby walked into B-Tent and changed into her orange suit, which made her look the size of a toothpick. It swallowed her whole!  
  
Not being able to stand the heat after fifteen minutes, Abby decided to check the Wreck Room out. She grabbed her case, not trusting anyone enough to leave it in the tent.  
  
As soon as she stepped in, Abby thought that she might be able to stand B- Tent's heat better than she could the Wreck Room's smell. It was a mixture of sweat and perfume. Not a nice combination.  
  
At least it's empty right now, she thought. I can practice my music in peace!  
  
She set the case on top of the scratched-up pool table and unlocked the latches and undid the Velcro. Abby opened it up to see her slightly dusty but shiny and beautiful wooden instrument. She lifted it gently out of the case and put the shoulder rest on. She laid it down on the pool table so she could take care of her bow next.   
  
Abby took out the bow and tightened the hairs on it. Then, she took the rosin out of her box to make the bow's sound finer.   
  
Once it was ready, Abby made sure it was in tune.  
  
G, A, B, C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C, D, E, F, G, A. Still in tune!  
  
Abby decided she'd play her mother's favorite first. She needed the music for that though. She unzipped the flap on the outside of her case. Reaching inside, she pulled out all of her music. Something caught Abby's attention, though, as it fell out of the flap and fluttered down to the floor, wrong side up. Abby bent down and turned it over and smiled. It was a picture of her and her mother, laughing, smiling, in some now far-off land.  
  
Abby laid the picture down and picked up her violin again. She flipped through the music until she found Spring. It was a very joyful piece with lots of high notes and dynamics. Abby's mother had been joyful and also dynamic.  
  
She lifted her bow to play the song. She didn't stop playing until---  
  
Creeeak.  
  
The Wreck Room door had been opened. Abby turned to face the person or cause of the door opening.   
  
It had been a boy, a bit taller than Abby, not by much though. His skin wasn't white, but it was light, and was stretched tight across his bones (like Abby's). His head was covered with curly, brown locks. His face was . . . not sad, not angry, just calm.  
  
"Hello," Abby smiled her wide, toothy smile.  
  
The boy said nothing.  
  
Abby was about to give up hope for a response. She started to turn back around, but---  
  
"Hi."  
  
Abby whipped back around to face him again. She walked over to him and offered her hand.   
  
"I'm Abby. Abby LeVert. You probably heard outside, but---"  
  
He didn't take her hand. Abby lifted it up to move her glasses back on her nose, uncomfortably.  
  
"My name's Hector," he finally said. "But everyone here calls me Zero."  
  
"Do---Do you like that name?"  
  
Zero didn't answer. Instead, he walked over to the pool table. Abby followed.  
  
Abby didn't want to call him by a name he didn't like, so she was going to try out his real name. "Well, Hector," she precariously said. "How do you like Camp Green Lake?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"What's that?" Zero asked, pointing to the violin Abby was holding.  
  
"This? This is my violin." She held it up. "I've been playing since I was seven."  
  
There was a pause in which neither said anything. Zero just stared at Abby and her violin, eyes seeming to expand.  
  
"Do you want to hold it?"  
  
Zero's eyes widened even more. He nodded.  
  
Abby stepped up a little closer to hand it to him. She was amazed at how gentle he took it, like he already knew how to handle something so fragile. Their hands accidentally touched as Zero took it. Although they had both noticed it, no one said or did anything to indicate that it had happened.  
  
Zero held it in two hands, firmly, but not too firmly, grasping the handle, while the other hand held the base.  
  
"I heard you," he said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"When I came in."  
  
It took Abby a second to figure out what he was talking about. "Oh, the music?"  
  
Zero nodded. "It was . . . beautiful."  
  
Abby smiled. "Thanks."  
  
The door creaked open again. A swarm of boys came pouring in. Two slumped over to the sofa, while five more walked over to the pool table. Zero and Abby cleared out of their way as one of the bigger boys roughly pushed Abby's violin case off of the pool table.  
  
"Hey!" Abby shouted. "Watch it!"  
  
The boy turned on her. "What you say to me?"  
  
Abby suddenly realized how tall and muscular the boy was. "Um, nothing."  
  
"That's what I thought." And he turned back to the pool table.  
  
"Here." Zero handed Abby her violin back. Then he bent down to pick up her case.  
  
Abby gratefully grinned as he carried it over to a safer spot for her.  
  
"Thanks," she said. "You really didn't have to---"  
  
"I know."  
  
There was a moment of awkward silence in which the two of them just shuffled their feet as they stared at each other.  
  
"Well," Abby got down on her knees, "I guess I should put this up."  
  
Once the instrument was back in its case, Abby stood.  
  
"I'll just be going now," she slowly said. "It was nice meeting you, Hector." She held out her hand one more time.  
  
Zero took it, but didn't say or do anything else.  
  
"Well, bye," Abby said softly. And she left the Wreck Room.   
  
As she headed back to her tent, she solemnly promised herself something: if it was the biggest accomplishment she'd ever make at Camp Green Lake, if it was the last thing she ever did, she was going to make Zero smile. 


End file.
